Timestamp:Summer, 35th, 520 A.V.
Tazrae sat cradling her mandolin, stroking its fine neck lost in childhood memories; happy ones. Now that it had been retrieved from Riverfall, it was more than time for her to learn its use. Captain James had taken a letter to her mother requesting the instrument with the coin to cover its cost, and happily her mother had still had it in her possession not for any sentimental reason, but for the fact it was a valuable thing. It had belonged to Tazrae’s grandfather in her father’s family line and he’d played it day in and day out. She didn’t remember her father ever playing it, but then her father had been a man who had taken up a hobby – held it for five chimes – and then was on to a new one.
James had dropped off a few other things for her. A couple of books, a pitch pipe, some writing supplies and a stash of instrument picks she could use with the mandolin. All and all, it left Tazrae super thankful the man made regular trips to Riverfall.
Her grandfather on her father's side had played it beautifully. As a girl, he'd often let her sit by his knee, in the courtyard, and listen to him play the very mandolin she cradled in her arms this instant. She remembered what he used to say about it quite clearly.
"Girl... you need to know your instrument well. It needs to always be in a playable condition, and it needs to be tuned." She already knew how to tune it. That was one of her birthrights. Her family had keen ears and a good sense of pitch, not because of any natural born ability, but because many of them carried Rhaus’ mark.
She glanced down at the mandolin, following that well-remembered advice. She checked for cracks and warps, and then checked the pegs to see if they were tight and working. The strings were all in place, the four pairs of them, and tuned perfectly. She ran her hands over the neck, and noted the oddity of the strings.
Mandolin's had eight strings, though they were arranged in pairs of two, each two tuned to the same note. They were designed to be played at the same time, and thus each pair only counted as one string. She smiled, checking them. Yes, they all looked good.
A voice out of her memory reminded her. "Always check your action, girl. This is a critical factor, because if the strings are too high above the fret, you'll have a hard time pushing your fingers down on them to create your music. If their too low, they'll rattle or buzz on the frets." She checked the height, and adjusted it slightly. The fret, or little metal bars placed at various intervals along the neck, looked to be the perfect distance beneath the strings, ready to take her finger pressure. She loved her grandfather's terms. "Fret... action" She didn't know what action was for the longest time... It just meant height. Bards took such interesting titles for their instruments and their parts.... so much so it made Tazrae chuckle. Always, they had a flair for the dramatic. She supposed she wasn't too different.
receipt :
Word Count: 539